


Something Unexplained

by EliotWinchester (orphan_account)



Category: Being Human (UK), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/EliotWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are on the trail of a supernatural event the likes of which they have never seen. They're expecting the hunt of their lives, but could they find themselves some unlikely allies? (Set somewhere in S3 in Supernatural and not really relevant to plot lines at all in Being Human)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Say His Eyes Turn Black

The bar had a classic Old-America feel to it, the air smelling of worn-out leather and whiskey and filled with the sound of classic rock. It was fairly busy for a small bar somewhere along route 80, the obnoxious laughter of dudes in their 40's wearing motorcycle jackets grated against Sam's ears as he tried to squeeze his way through to Dean. He tried to ignore the ones who were sizing him up, he knew they were trying to decide whether they could take him, or of he was just a little too big for that. Not for the first time, he wished Dean would let him pick the bars occasionally.

They were supposed to be headed to Davenport to investigate the sudden deaths of four men in the last year, all of whom had their insides turned to soup as though they'd been on the wrong end of a pipe bomb. Naturally the doctors were stumped. It sounded like just their kind of thing, probably a malicious spirit, but it could be something far worse; Sam was tempted to err on the side of caution the way their lives had been going recently.

All this was irrelevant to Sam now. He had just got off the phone with Bobby and there was a seriously good case down in Florida. He has his mind made up that this was more important, now he just had to convince Dean, which was never to be taken lightly. Sam sighed and scanned the bar, finally his eyes caught sight of the altogether too casual stance of his brother leaning against the far end, talking to a pretty little blonde in a short denim skirt. This was going to be tedious. 

As he walked up he heard Dean's voice, though it was a little deeper than necessary. 

"It's no trouble at all. I'll call up the casting director tomorrow and see if we can't get you a little something." Sam fought the urge to gag as he could almost hear the cheesy wink, and wondered how so many girls fell for this stupid act. As Sam loudly cleared his throat, Dean turned round with a vapid smile on his face. Sam raised and eyebrow at him.

"Sammy!" Dean cried clapping a hand onto his shoulder. "This here's my brother Sam. Sam this is..." He trailed off, unsurprisingly.

"Crystal" giggled the little blonde. _'Typical'_ was all that crossed Sam's mind.

"Crystal!" Dean repeated giving his brother a look that showed exactly what he wanted from bubbly little Crystal. "I've been talking to her for a while now and I think she's got some potential." He smiled a huge smile and Crystal giggled behind her hand. 

"Well I wouldn't know now would I?" Sam retorted as sarcastically as he could manage. "That's your area of expertise."

"True, true. Sammy wouldn't know talent if it danced naked in front of him. I, on the other hand..." Dean turned on what Sam could only imagine he presumed was a charming tone. It made the younger brother want to vomit. He'd heard quite enough of this for one night, besides, they had more important things to talk about.

"Listen, Dean, the doctor called, he said the swelling's nothing to worry about but you should probably go and have the pus drained away." Putting on the straightest face he could muster Sam reveled in the disgusted expression that came over the blonde's face.

"Ew." was all she managed before she grabbed her purse and quickly sauntered to the other end of the bar. Dean gave him a look to kill.

"What in the hell was that?!" He demanded, downing what was left of his beer in outrage.

"I got a call from Bobby about a case." Sam paused as Dean gave his customary look of indifference and went right ahead and said the same damn thing he said every time.

"We already have a case."

"Yeah but this one's huge." Sam tried to stress the importance with every syllable. "Bobby called us specially because there's going to be hype about this one, and he thought we might want first scoop." He knew it wasn't going to be that easy but that didn't stop the little creep of hope crawl into his tone like it did every time.

"Yeah, and?" Dean motioned to the barmaid for another bottle of beer.

"And, we already know what we're dealing with." Sam started to let the excitement grow in his voice, "They're from England, just moved here last week and, they have quite the reputation." Dean took a swig from the bottle placed in front of him and looked up at his brother with a reserved expectation.

"They? Who's they?" He said with a slight impatience.

"That's what's so interesting." Sam pressed, watching Dean's look of disbelief, confident that he would change his tune once he heard what was currently residing in Florida. A phenomenon that no hunter had experienced before in known history. That they had this case laid out for them was a miracle and Sam did his best to put every ounce of emphasis he could on his next few sentences. "There's a spirit. A vampire. And a werewolf." Dean's head turned slightly. "And they're all living in the same house." Now Dean looked Sam dead on with raised eyebrows in disbelief.

"That's impossible."

"That's what I said." Sam responded insistently, to show that he wasn't just mindlessly following tales, "But Bobby says it's confirmed. There's been sightings of them all over England. They were in a city called Bristol, where a coven was destroyed, then there were definite sightings in Wales and a few unconfirmed in various other parts of the country before they disappeared. Now they've shown up in Florida." Sam looked at Dean expectantly, as though his gaze would force a reaction from him, would make him give the consent that they should go and check it out.

"How is that even possible? Most werewolves don't even know what they are, and spirits aren't known for just picking up and emigrating." Dean might have put every effort into looking nonchalant but Sam knew he had peaked his interest and smiled satisfactorily. 

"I don't know. But get this, the vampire that's with them." He paused to make sure the full effect of what he was about to say sunk in. "They say his eyes turn black." Dean's eyes rose slowly from his bottle, and Sam knew that they were both thinking the same thing.

  


Early the next morning fog was thick and everything was a dull grey and with the quiet air of a bar full of hangovers. The grumbling image of a '67 impala swung out onto route 80, breaking the silence until it had pulled away into the fog, no longer heading for Davenport. 


	2. The House With the Picket Fence

The night was quiet except from the gentle washing of the sea in the distance, it’s tangy taste heavy on the air. A clear sky revealed endless stars, the kind of night where lovers would spend hours staring to the heavens on the beach. Yet there wasn’t a soul on the beach at this hour; not by this house at least. It stood isolated from any other structure, but it was not unoccupied. Light burst out from gaps in the curtains, casting long shadows about the small front yard as first it hit the raised porch, and then onto the neat shrubs and finally a white picket fence that marked the boundaries. Anyone who came upon the place would have given it a wide birth, though none would be able to explain why. Whatever the reason, it would have meant they would have missed the two bulky figures who blended into the shadows, as easily as embracing an old friend.

Sam couldn’t tell whether it was the gentle breeze or the rush of adrenaline that was screwing up his hearing but either way they felt muffled somehow, and it put him on edge. The ocean air was bringing back unwanted memories, he recalled what he’d learnt in college about odours being a tool in eye-witness accounts because they attached themselves so readily to emotional moments. As the scent of salt washed over him with a fresh gust of wind, it wasn’t him and Dean blasting away spirits with the stuff that sprang to his mind; it was Jess. 

Before he could stop himself Sam was immersed in a memory so beautiful it was excruciating. It was their first vacation together and they were lying on the beach gazing at a sky painfully similar to the one Sam was trying with all his might to ignore. Jess was curled up under his arm and he laughed freely as her wild hair tickled his nose. They never said anything that night; the moment felt too perfect to be sullied with trivial words. But he would never forget the way that the moonlight got caught in her golden hair, or the way she captured the light of every star in her eyes as she looked up at the sky in wonder, never noticing how Sam spent more of the night captivated by her beauty than stargazing. He wanted to reach out to her, to make her understand how he felt in that moment, to show her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. More than anything he wished he could just say sorry. Sam was ripped from his sorrow by a low hiss and he swallowed the lump in his throat before refocusing his senses.

Dean hissed at him again from the other side of the stairs leading up to the porch. Sam double, no, triple checked his inventory. It was a big haul for tonight, they’d had to empty nearly the whole trunk and the pockets in his jacket and jeans were fit to bust with various hunting paraphernalia. This time he checked only the most vital of his arsenal; two fully loaded guns. One was a shotgun, which felt like little more than a toy in his massive hands, but was loaded with rock salt. The other was a colt, filled with silver bullets.

The shotgun was what he carried now as he nodded to Dean that he was ready, it wasn’t a full moon and so it was unlikely that they would be having problems with the werewolf tonight. Although that didn’t mean they weren’t going to have to take care of that one too.

Sam crept forwards as Dean did the same, instinctively aware of his brother movements. Dean raised his hand suddenly and they both froze. The curtain flickered; someone was checking for movement outside. Once the yard had returned to its previous state of darkness the boys continued to move in, automatically placing their feet in the correct way to minimise noise. They reached the door and stood either side of it with their backs to the wall, guns raised. They took a split second to breathe and listen for any signs of trouble before they nodded to each other simultaneously and span round to face the door.

The door came crashing open as Dean landed a kick and they ran into the room guns steady and looks of steel on their faces. Four faces spun round to stare at them before there was a clatter of china falling to the floor and one girl completely vanished. The other woman rolled her eyes as she sat at the dining table and a man with short mousy hair and glasses sat with her, completely frozen, holding a steaming mug halfway to his lips. Finally a man with long black hair, dressed in a shirt over a t-shirt and finger-less gloves let the last remnants of a smile be wiped from his face as he unfolded his arms and spoke in a thick Irish accent.

‘And who the fuck are you?’


	3. The Vampire, The Ghost, The Werewolf and... The Other Werewolf?

“You first fanger... or demon... or whatever the hell you are.”

Sam pursed his lips and fought from rolling his eyes at Dean's immeasurable wit. The two men gave each other a quick glance, before the dark haired one spoke again.

“You know an awful lot given that you can barely string a sentence together,” the sarcasm in his voice was so strong Sam wondered if he could speak in another tone.

But Sam was distracted by the woman at the table. Bobby's tip had only mentioned three monsters, but there was no surprise on her face when Dean had mentioned vampires. Sam's fixed his gun on her.

“What are you?” He spat, slightly more venomously than he meant to.

Once the other two noticed where his pistol was trained, they sprang into action. The guy in glasses stood rapidly practically knocking over the table and shielding the woman from Sam's aim. The other man took a step forward as his eyes flitted black and he bared his fangs. Just two of them. Sam exchanged a look with Dean. Vampires didn't just have two fangs, and there eyes certainly didn't turn black.  


Since Dean had his gun to the strange black-eyed creature, Sam stayed with the other two. The woman had sighed and pushed her protector away so that she could look at Sam with something close to exasperation.  


“Sorry, I thought you boys had all the answers?” Sam gritted his teeth from all the sarcasm being thrown around, surely now was the time for straight answers.  


“If you're human, we'd like to get you out of here.” Sam managed through a clenched jaw.  


She laughed.  


“Well that ship has sailed I'm afraid,” she lifted her sweater sleeve to show them three long claw marks. The scars still looked angry and red.  


“I don't mean to burst your bubble sweetheart, but that little cat scratch there don't mean shit,” Dean's head tilted as he spoke and Sam could sense he was getting impatient, “You see, werewolves get made by biting, else we'd both have been screwed a long time ago.”  


They each exchanged glances.  


“Come back and tell me that on a full moon pretty boy, see how far it gets you.”  


“Sam, remind me why I'm talking to these freaks and not just shooting them?”  


Sam winced slightly at the word “freak”, along with Dean's short-sightedness.  


“Oh I don't know Dean, maybe because this is a one of a kind situation which may not occur for centuries, and you might actually _learn_ something for once.”  


Dean scoffed, but before he could reply the dorky-looking guy in glasses piped up for the first time.  


“Oh I'm sorry, did you say you wanted to learn something?” His voice seemed shaky and grew higher in pitch, and louder, as he went along, “How's this for learning? My name's George, this is Nina, we're a fucking werewolf couple. This is Mitchell, he's a vampire who's trying extremely hard to not feed, which does wonders for his mood believe me! And somewhere upstairs is Annie, she's a ghost who you scared to death! And she's already fucking dead! We have enough fucking problems without some fucking morons breaking our door down, waving guns around, whilst we're trying to have a cup of tea! So would you please, just, leave!”  


The man, George, took a breath as he finished and Sam though it might be the first one since he started his rant. He also looked as though he regretted everything he had just said. It seemed like the vampire agreed.  


“Wow, way to be a tough guy George, should we take a rain check and reschedule our brutal murders so we can enjoy our tea in peace?” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans for something and Dean readjusted his pistol in warning. Mitchell held up his hands in mock surrender, in one was a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Whoa there Die Hard, situation like this and a guy's not allowed to smoke?”  


He didn't wait for a response before flicking open the box, putting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it. Sam could see Deans jaw clench as he gritted his teeth.  


“Um, excuse me?” A small voice came from the stairs to their left, as Sam whirled around in response, he saw a mass of curly, black hair disappear behind a wall, shielding the owner of the voice from view.  


“Annie, you're a ghost, they have guns, they can't hurt you.” Nina sighed as though this was something she had to explain on a daily basis and raised her mug to her lips.  


“Oh right, yeah,” Annie said sheepishly, this time to Sam's right as she stood slightly behind Mitchell. Holding the sleeves of her gray sweater nervously, she raised herself up on her toes and then lowered again. As she repeated the motion it seemed like she was bouncing slightly and Sam got the impression she wasn't one to stay still for so long.  


“Wouldn't be so sure about that,” Dean sneered and before Sam could protest he chucked a flask full of holy water at the girl, which he had apparently retrieved from his coat surreptitiously whilst everyone was distracted.  


“Hey!” Annie cried in reproach as the water fell upon her sweater, turning the light gray fabric dark with dampness. Sam felt his brow furrow in confusion. Dean just gaped.  


Mitchell on the other hand, Sam thought he would die from laughing so hard. It was a miracle he managed to keep the cigarette in his mouth.  


“That's it? That's your big bad plan against the spirit world? _Water_?” And with that he threw his head back and roared with laughter.  


“That-that was holy water...” Dean managed.  


“Holy water?” Annie looked up from dabbing at her wet clothes with a hurt expression, “Are you trying to say I'm unholy? I mean, I wouldn't say I was pure in the strictest sense of the word, if you know what I mean, I mean I know how to have fun, especially when I was alive, like there was this one time...” She trailed off from her tangent at a look from George, and Mitchell's laughter had died away into an awkward silence. In a hurried attempt to divert attention she quickly added, “I'm not unholy!”  


Mitchell started shaking his head at Annie, and George started scolding her for 'not helping the situation'. Mitchell soon retaliated with a mocking rendition of George's earlier rant and soon all four of them were squabbling like children. Dean had been standing with a sort of pained confusion on his face, which he now shook himself out of and looked at the flask, then at Sam.  


“Did we forget to bless the water?” he muttered under his breath.  


“Dude, there's a black-eyed vampire, two werewolves who can infect by scratch, in a relationship, living together, with a ghost, and you can't accept that holy water didn't work?” Sam raised an eyebrow incredulously, “Look, they might be dangerous but they're not attacking us, despite the fact that we haven't actually proved we can hurt them. Maybe we should see what we can figure out – peacefully.”  


“What? You mean like sit down and have a meet and greet with these suckers?”  


“If that's the way you want to see it,” Sam sighed, not even attempting to make Dean see the logic.  


“Pfft, I don't think so,” Dean scoffed.  


“Look if it doesn't work out, we'll kill 'em,” Sam conceded.  


“Fine, but I'm keeping my gun on the table.”  


Sam tried not to think about throttling him as he turned back around to the squabbling foursome, who stopped and looked at him as he cleared his throat.  


“We need to have a talk.”


End file.
